


The Dread Pyrate Methos

by Taz



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Historical, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taz/pseuds/Taz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The contents of a letter dated from London on the 13th day of December 1713, from Duncan MacLeod to his cousin Connor, recounting events that occurred at a masquerade .</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dread Pyrate Methos

D.O.E.L.C.A.M.

The document box appeared to be floating on the surface of the conference table. The worn gold letters on the side reflected upside down in the glossy finish. Beside was a red cord thread sitting beside with the broken wax seal attached. Red. Secret. Highly Confidential. Say 10 Hail Marys and burn before reading..

_“…on a coordinated analysis of relevant data from ten subjects…” _The Bright Young Man who was speaking had a very unfortunate voice.

Ten years ago, Joe Dawson reflected the Chief Librarian would have admitted a fart in the vaults sooner than a research scholar. Damn good policy. Never should have changed it. _“…with a positive result defined as a 54% match within designated parameters…”_ Joe tried to ease the crick in his neck and pay attention, but the 10 hour flight from Seacouver, the time difference, and the self-satisfied drone were putting him to sleep. _“Three targets qualified when we ran the program…”_ He placed two fingers on either side of the bridge of his nose and pinched hard_. “… at 67%. There is no doubt, Gentlemen, that we’ve found—”_

Uh, Oh!

The BYM had allowed himself a dramatic pause and suddenly, you could cut the hostility thickening the air with a chain saw. Joe perked up as the BYM shuffled his papers, and he recalled he was going to have to continue to work with the five women who were sitting at the table. “My apologies, l-ladies, but w-we f-found him.” The statement was unenlightening and meant continued silence. Joe allowed himself a certain smug satisfaction at the spoiling of the BYM’s climax. “I m-mean Me-Methos.”

Amid the rising buzz of voices asking questions and demanding to see the printouts, Joe relaxed. He, himself, had gotten the news thirty-eight hours earlier without benefit of foreplay, startled out of sleep by the shrilling phone.

_We’ve found him!_

_What? Who?_

_Methos.’_

_Where? When?_

Asked and answered before he became aware he’d picked up the handset.

_1713._

_What? Say that again!”_

_1713\. Your man, MacLeod…_

Fortunately, the words the concept 18th century had penetrated his sleep-fogged brain before he’d said anything compromising. He’d repeated the date just to be sure he’d heard correctly, and then exploded _‘Do you know what the fuck time it is? I don’t care if it’s afternoon in Paris…’ _No one had any business waking him at—he squinted at the clock—four-fucking-thirty in the morning. Not with that much enthusiasm. _‘Anyway, what’s this got to do with…?’_

_How soon can you be here?’ _

“…if you open your folders, you’ll find printouts as well as facsimiles…”

Joe sighed and fingered the hotel key in his pocket.

The next morning, with a solid American breakfast under his belt, Dawson set out to deal with MacLeod. It was early enough that a shroud of mist still hung over the river. The place on the quay where MacLeod’s Porsche usually sat was empty, and he was honest enough to admit to sense of relief. Yet the chain that barred the gang plank was hanging on one post and the hatch was open; somebody was home. He paid the taxi driver and clumped up the gangplank. Before he finished negotiating the stairs, he shouted, “You couldn’t call?”

There was a disgusted groan and other irritated noises, from the bed at the far end of the cabin on which lay a cocoon with a pale leg protruding from it.

“Where’s MacLeod?”

“Not here.” The leg was withdrawing.

“Where is he?” There was a blue cotton kimono draped across the foot of the bed.

“Auction.” Came the muffled reply.

“What’s he shopping for?” Dawson bent over to make sure that he could be heard. “China?”

Slowly, the gravid cocoon split open and revealed a reptilian eye.

“It’s too early to be obscure.”

“No, it’s not. The sun is over the yard-arm. It’s past time you were up and about, my roving boy.” Dawson turned and gave the porthole behind him shove with his cane. The breeze it admitted was crisp and bracing, far from the arctic blast the yowl from the indicated. “Get up, we need to talk.”

Joe looked around for a place he could sit and set up his laptop. The sofa was the logical center of the cabin and, normally, MacLeod was prim as a cat. This morning there was clothing draped over the back of the sofa. There were shoes under the coffee table and empty wineglasses on top of it.

“Dawson! Give me one good reason.” His victim, no butterfly, was sitting up in the feather bed, scowling.

“Because, if I’m going to be woken up at ungodly hours, somebody has to suffer.” Dawson sat down and cleared space on the coffee table.

“What are you doing?”

“Make coffee. You’re going to need it.”

“Do you want me to bake croissants, while I’m at it?”

“Whatever you feel like doing.”

“I feel like going back to sleep.”

“You want to see this.” Joe popped the lid on the laptop, removed a CD case from his briefcase, unzipped it and removed a disk.

“Give me a hint.”

Joe made no answer, knowing that where outrage wouldn’t move the man, curiosity eventually would, and shortly it did, although, the loud smack of bare feet stalking to the head was deliberate. Dawson made the mistake of looking. Nice haunches. The blue kimono still lay at the foot of the bed. Nothing he hadn’t seen before but, just for a moment, as the shower started, he repeated his nose-pinching gesture. MacLeod was his job; in a sense, that made them adversaries. But MacLeod had also become his friend. He didn’t like thinking that Mac had chosen the most dangerous thing he possibly could have to love.

Eventually, since the barge was MacLeod’s home and Methos only ignored manners on purpose, the coffee press emitted its life-saving nectar. Joe took the cup he was offered and set it down.

Methos damp but inoffensive in black jeans, draped his body on the sofa, put his head back and closed his eyes. “Justify this intrusion,” he said, putting Joe on notice that he could be treated to sulking without notice.

“Then pay attention. You, I’m sure, recall that shortly after Adam Pierson left the Society of Watchers, rather informally, it was determined that the organization had, though nepotism and inertia, lost sight of its primary purpose.”

“I recall a number of members who had become lazy and self-serving. I say that you understand without a trace of irony.”

“I’m sure. And, subsequently, there was a major reorganization.”

“Heads rolled…metaphorically speaking. What’s that got to do with it?”

“Patience, old son. New administration. New blood. New ideas. The policies of all departments were scrutinized and, in light of contemporary research standards, and brought up to date.”

“Too bad.” Methos said. “Some of those policies were delightfully antediluvian.”

“Including the Red List.”

“Oh, Joe!” Methos’s head came up, eyes open wide. “Say they haven’t abolished it. How will innocent young watchers be preserved from corruption?”

“They’ll have to muddle through like the rest of us.” Dawson dropped the disk he’d been holding in the tray and pushed a button. The tray slid home and there was the high pitched whine of data being read. “How long is that auction going to take?”

Methos shrugged. “Could be all day, it’s an estate sale. We have plans for dinner, but… ” With the click of a digital shutter, an image appeared. “What’s that?“ Methos squinted. _“To Connor MacLeod…”_  The address was written on old paper, stained and a bit foxed. The writing had been poorly blotted and the pen had sputtered, evidence that the author’s control of his tool was still imperfect. There was a second click and a second image. “That’s Duncan’s barbarous hand," Methos said. "He’s going to go ballistic when he finds out you’ve been reading his mail.”

“He wrote it 300 years ago!”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” The image changed a third time. Methos tilted his head. “What's it say? He crossed his lines.”

Dawson picked up a folder, took out the transcript and handed it over. He already knew what it said. Some earlier watcher had made a note: Your Grace, this letter was recently discovered buried in the chronicles of Connor MacLeod...

_From Duncan McLeod, St. James, London, 13 December 1713_

_My dearest Cousin Connor_

_I receiv’d your Communication with grate delite and learn you are again settl’d in France. It is to reflect with astonishment how the World is at peace after so many Turbulent years. You know I was Honor’d to perform some small tasks for Q. A in respect of the Treaty. And I will observe to you, tho She has no love for Scotland in general, she has been a Tolerble monarch. The Whigs may sniff at her Relations with that foolish L. Masham but with Marlborough out, Bolingbroke hopes, as do I, she will be Persuad’d to put aside the Act of Settlement. It can be the One thing that will, in the end, reconcile Our nation to this Forced and Un-Natural Union. Think on’t! She has no living childe, nor is like to have one now, and Albany is Her brother. He has the right of it. Further, I tell you, She wrote such a letter of Rebuke to her cousin Sofia that her son should come into England whilst She is yet alive that the Poor Princesse was much Reduced._

_You ask how things fare with me and in Respect of the many Instances of your Affection I shall attempt to make my reply Worthy of your attention. I trust as well you will take nottise of the fine hand in which it is writ and take leave to Boste it is my own. The Writing of letters has become Quite the Fashion of late and it would Nott do for Such as us to be Behind the mode. I had a letter of Fiztcairn last month. Ever looking to make a Fortune, he has gone out to Jamaica to set up as a sugar planter. News I would have been more gratifyed by were it nott the lickspiggot writes such a barbarous fist he spread it over three sheets and cost me 6d to learn it._

_I confesse in parte to the Hope of persuading you to come to me. England is much chang’d from when you were last here and you would discover the face of London strangely alter’d since the fire. It is built up on quite the old plan but you woode scarce know it for the Granitte and the Marble. Your old place by Gerrard St. is become a Coffee House and the Coffee Houses almost Respectable on account of serving Chocolate and all Sortes of Waters and Liquers and not tolerating any longer that Diversity of Station and Opinion that was their Hallmark 50 years ago. I mind well how you walked into The Turk’s Head and call’d for a fresh pipe and a pot of coffee, inquiring ‘Which is the Treason Table?’ The Whigs now say the Treason is all at the Cocotree whilst they plot at White’s. But in these days there is scarce enney Business that is not done under a cloude of smoke in sutch establishments. The ships bills are alle writ up at Lloyd’s. Newton, Halley and Sloan create the World new at The Grecian. Smith and Addison hold forth at Button’s and wo to enney who fancies himself a witte. I write to you from a box at Will’s where a man of Our Ilk may rest undisturb’d. There being so much Agreement on this poynt that some have taken to calling it Holee Ground if you will._

_I have by me a roll of tobacco, a pot of coals and a dish of chocolate. There is the Spectator if I wish to read it and the Proprieter will Post my sheets for me. I confess, here is Somethyng very Pleasant in laying out one’s time in this fashion yette I would be in my own house. So I beg you to come directly and rescue me from the Monstrous Regiment of Women under which I am presentle labouring. That Amanda Deverieux and Rebecca Horne of whom I told you are come to London and impos’d upon my Goode will, I know not how.  Rebecca meaning to furbish an est. in Covntry that was much damage during what they are pleased to be calling Monmouth’s Rebellion, they have made my place their Headquarters in this Campaign. Every Day it is to Shoppes and Drapers and Joiners. And it will not do but I must give my Opinion of this Equipage or that Table and when I am so Foolish as to do so, they unite in Abusin’ it. Now I am come to own a sette of chairs in the new fashion, tho’ I admit it is most Elegant, but also a Press of that new Mahagonne wode and a neccessaire! Add a bureau and a day bed and a pare of gilded tables and I know not what besides and all my goode olde cases must go to the attik. I do not keep but three servants, and two are women and t’other is old. So while they fall about, who is the Pack Ass in the Business? I should not Mind so much, mayhap, but they are ever Codlin’ each other before me, knowing exactly how it takes a man. Last night, I made to retire and discovered by my bed a Tract titled Onania or The Heinous Sin of Self Pollution and All its Frightful Consequences in Both sexes. It was Most explicet. In the morning I did not need the Strengthening Tincture the author recommended will restore my Capacitee. And that brings me to mind of a tale I would relate._

_Last Thrs., having prevail’d upon me to purchase tickets to a masquerade A got up herself up as Diana in buskins with a silver moon in her hair and her breast seeming to be uncover’d. R, nott to be outdone in the way of Scandal, contriv’d to go as Judith with a Head of Holofernes madde of papier mache. After her Husband she sayde. They wish’d me to go as Hercules, tho I would not makke such a spectacle of myself and wore the black Domino. You observe these Guises permitt’d us Alle to bear arms without inspiring comment. You never know Whom you may meet at these Affairs and it is most assur’dly Nott holee ground._

_The evening come, we met with Burns who, it will amuse you, the ladies had convinc’d to dress as Paris and I shud mention hasn’t the shanks for it. Nonetheless, He took us up, and gave us a good supper in the bargain and so we appear’d as a foursome at Carleton House. C sponsores thees masques to let the World see how he can Indulge himself. The grand saloon was alle hang’d with yellow silk and a fountain of rose water. There were mennie lights and Turkey carpets on the floor but Most on display were that Fantastic paynt’d chinaware such as Q. Mary gave the humour of furnishing houses. I saw chargers with Dragons wrap’d round and scenes of Pagodas. There were mennie of those grate tall stright vases some call roll-wagons all covered with peonees in fule blossom._

_It was Gay with the people Mask’d and Jewell’d. Tho the Orientall dress is fashionable you will find lords dress’d as Shepherds, duchesses as Milkmaids and the True Woores as queans at these Occashuns. I recognized Curiosity. All Ears and Eyes. That political Scribbler who was put three days in the stocks. He is not to be Endured but It is the Custom you should not know a person, Justte walk up and say ‘I know you Sir or Mdm’._

_The rumbling time of year being over, there was much Company of the Best sort and I entreated with A that she not pull anyone’s necklace or pocket, pointing out, with Reason I thot, that she had no Place about her to hide the booty. She said she would find it Inconvenient if her hands lost theyer cunning and cannot resist to practice her old Trade. I say’d it would be More inconvenient if she were taken up for a Common Thief and transport’d. You may think R would curb her but they instructed me to look to my own affairs and went off with S between ‘em. Now I am not capable of reading a Lecture of Instruction to any Body, but I relate this in the very Manner in which these Things occur’d._

_You may be sure that left to mine own devising, I thought I to meet some sawcy wench and was solicited by mennie. But short I found by virtue of my Domino, I was apart and prefer’d watching the dance to treading the measure._

_In the smaller rooms was set up a tea with a supper of lapster and partans and brandie. I passed some time at cards and won 300L very comfortable. I drunk very freely and nott long after midnight excused myself to find the Garden house. Returning by way of a sequester’d arbor where I recalled a broad bench and thought to sit me down. But most sudden the torch was knocked from my hand and I abjur’d to gett out of the way.  I had surprised Carleton himself, not wearing anne maske but well disguis’d none the less. I choose not to call him for his ruddeness for by that Uncanny Perception which we Share, I had discovered Another present Whome I Did Notte Know. In anne event, C run off and I picked up the torch to observe the straunjer._

_He wore Turkish cloathes. Robes of Greene silk over pale Salmon and White. On his head a turban fixed with a tulip shaped devise alle set with rubies and mounted with black Heron feathers. I could not see his face for it was veiled to the een and his een were darke with kohl and dusted with gold. So languid He lay, I thought me this was a Woman in Manes Cloaths and did wonder for Alle kno C is an ingle to Ganymede and will not come by his wiffe, poore woman. I had took off my mask, which had grown tyresom and belike my face shew’d What was in My mind. He laughed and say’d he Hoped I was nott so ill manner’d as my friend. It was then that I Knew him for a Mann. I say’d I hoped notte! very warmly. He let his cloathes fall open and It was Notte for Costoom that he disclos’d the hilt and scabbard of what looked to be a very servicible yat’gh’n. I let him see the horn grip Hanger beneath my Domino and say’d who I was. He laughed again shewing he did not Fear to meet me but spred his hands and say’d it would be a shame to rune sutch an occashun and invited me to sit, saying tho my friend was a Messan such a dark and sober Domino must hide a Man. And, if he hear’d aright, a douce man of the clans at that._

_He canted well but I could not place his speech. I knew he was not a Turk by means of the hand he’d placed on the Back of the bench. His fingers were long and one had on it a ring with a great table emerald. I asked what he was call’d and from where he came and he say’d he was Aban Rais. That he had been born so long ago even he could not remember the name of the Countree! He say’d that he would not unveil, lest C come back and as he had some business to transact with him the next day and would not have him embarrassed with knowing his face for the world. I say’d I Perfeckly understood. And so I sat and Conversed with him and learned he was just come to England again now the times seemed propitious to set up his way of business here again. I asked what business that was and He say’d he owned ships that carried alle cargoes that come from the East, tea and spices and perfumed woods, but most espeshle silks and that painted chinaware I had seen so much inside. He say’d it pass’d as Ballast in his ships. He spoke of how the Chin potters lay down the creame from which it is made for their grandsons, of how the true porcelayne will ring like a bell and steel will never cut it. Spare me the curtain-jaw, Cousin, none could have resist’d such an ardent mystree. Sometimes he leaned close to make his Poynte and then his perfume came to me on ribbands of scented air. I breathed the bitter orange of Spanish gardens, the ocean tynge of Ambergrees and riche Virginian. Odors possess the power of Infinyte things and his body was a censor. In short, the torch burn’d out but I was set afire and there are Tempations it is not in Nature to resist._

_I asked if he was ever desirus of China for himself. He say’d chinaware was like oranges, if a man have a longing for one or for the other, he will never get enough. He say’d roll-wagons were Recently become a Particular Fancy of his; it was one of those arbitrary Tastes for which There is No Accounting. His voice was merry in the dark. I thot I took his Meaning. I say’d it was too bad of him, if he have China of other people and none by me for I knew where was a roll-wagon Nearby that might raise his Admiration. I had taken him right and Scarce had the words left my mouth but I felt his hand seek the place where my Domino had bolstered. Trule I meant to exercise alle Caution but The argument of that hand was so cunning it reason’d me out of reason. Not but what it was too by the help of my own Inclination. For being inflamed, the stern Dictator of my Anatomee directed that I recline and admit that pioneer to alle partes of my body. Seeing how it was with me he shifted his cloathes and Knelt very willingly on the bench. By Lifting of my knee he fixed me where he would and there was never horn so hard, nor velvet more smooth as that Poniard with which he proposed to try my Edge. I was not inclined to a light passayge but a kind of native Rage inspyr’d me to thrust amongst the soft short curls at its root until that Same cuning Hand, which I Have mentioned, seized Both weapons and proceeded to Hone them to my Satisfaction. Borne head long by the Conflagration, I did not know nor care that my hat and wig were in the dirt. I was transported out of myself and too soone the Smalle Deathe was upon me. I began to Trembell and Cry but I was No way the Advance of him. The Delicious heat of his emission bathed me Well before I released._

_It was some time ‘til I was my Own master again and that Caushun I had so foolishly abandoned Stirred. My prick lay soft with its half-capped head soft upon my thigh and I say’d out Loud it was too bad if I could Nott know sutch a style of China Again. Well might I have gone Off my Head in other ways, but My Lover, for to my Confusion so I found myself thinking him, seemed more pleased than offended. He let drop one side of his veil and shew’d me his face. I could not discern all Its particulars, I know nott the coloure of his een, but he had a neb I should know again. Then divining that I was trule satisfy’d, he kissed me! His mouth tasted of myrrh and the Perfume of his body was made more Rishe and Sweet by what we had compound’d between us._

_We lay together ‘til I thot we should try another course. But by then came a greet Noyise and Constern from about the house. It could Nott but seem that A had been careless. I clap’d the wig upon my head and seized my hat and ran. But it was not the case I feared but worse! Carleton was killed! You will recall I say’d it is the style at these Affairs that a Friend may not know Friend. Also may Ladies attend unescorted and Alle are masked. Husband may not know his Wife. Nor a Mother her Sonne. Yette Alle flirt and some become lost to themselves and all that is Decent. Lrd. Ewald Lyton had Knowledge of his Father’s wife. That being reveal’d, Moreland made to murder them both. He was restrain’d by his friends, upon which C. observed it should be better comfort to him that he was a cuckold by his own sonne than a costermonger. For those words Moreland broke free and spitt’d him! Small loss to alle who knew him but It were best to come away. Amanda had help’d herself most prodigious indeed, and for once she heed’d me._

_Since tho, they have inform’d me my domino was powder’d down the back and did not hide that my cloathes were disarrayed. It should be some satisfaction that A wish’d to know the woman’s name and say’d shud I find a lover who so pleased me and not know where she kept? I do nott care to tell her that I have enquir’d among the ship’s captains and among those who buy and sell china and none know the name Aban Rais. I have been well diddl’d and yett I find myself unable to forget him. Today as I passed by the Arcade, I smelt again that rare perfume and rushed in to the shoppe demanding what scent it was and who wore it. My manner so firce the Apothecary call’d me a whoreson foole an’ wish’d me at Bedlam. _

_Ah, Connor, well you may say I am a foole, but say also you will come and teach me to be wiser. I miss my good bed-fellow._

_Yr. Loving Cousin, Duncan McL._

 


End file.
